


I'll Walk With You

by Damien, Harlow (Damien)



Series: /r/nosleep fanfics [7]
Category: How to Survive Camping - Fainting--Goat
Genre: Based on "I'm Starting to Dislike Children", Canon Rewrite, F/M, Gen, I just really like writing Beau being confused by humans despite understanding them, I'm pretty sure this has queerplatonic vibes, No beta we die like campers, POV Beau | The Man With The Skull Cup, POV First Person, Protective Beau | The Man With The Skull Cup, Rated M for Kate's tits being out, Surprisingly non-sexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27965675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damien/pseuds/Damien, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damien/pseuds/Harlow
Summary: Beau watches her, knowing she doesn't always need him to protect her but wanting to be there just in case. When she's punished by the dancers, he's there to take her home.Pretty much a direct retelling of the actual story from I'm Starting to Dislike Children, but I felt the need.
Relationships: Beau | The Man With The Skull Cup & Kate, Beau | The Man With The Skull Cup/Kate
Series: /r/nosleep fanfics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699717
Kudos: 16





	I'll Walk With You

The thin hair of the bull she rode slipped through her fingers as Kate clung on, desperately, to the former sheriff. The animalistic screams of whatever had become of the dancers tugged at her just as much as the wind pushing her back. The claws raking across the bull were getting to her, and even unable to hear her words, anyone familiar with Kate to any degree could tell what she was considering.

She rolled her body off him, more of an intentional fall rather than some sort of graceful dismount, but the dancers were already there, on the heels of the sheriff. They caught her, the pain of their sharp claws prickling her as she was dropped to the icy cold ground. They dug into her jacket, shredding it and letting the cold stab at her rapidly bared skin. Her shirt was ripped off of her, and the practical sports bra was sliced clean through. It wasn’t sexual so much as methodical, baring her upper body to the elements. She screamed along with them, flailing in a very human attempt to not be surrounded by these creatures.

Three stripes were sliced clean through her back, then salted. An old method of punishment to be sure, but one that the dancers felt was appropriate. Doubtlessly, they knew she would understand what exactly they were expressing with it. Her body curled in on itself, writhing in obvious pain as her mind tried to fight against the torture. It took a while, the dancers long since gone when she finally started to push herself up from the ground. She was covered in a combination of her own blood and the moisture from the ground that’d soaked her front and side. She was shaking, whether from the cold or the shock to her body, I'm not sure..

She stumbled towards her home, seemingly semi-conscious, and she looked as though she might collapse at any moment. It was painful to care, but I had to. I followed her along, watching, and she didn’t so much as slow when I approached her. I was just going to watch over her, keeping anything else from trying to take her life when she was already in a weakened state, but she swayed on her feet, and I knew if I didn’t step in, she’d have eventually fallen and may not have gotten up.

I took her elbow, stabilizing her wavering body, and she finally noticed me. “That didn’t go well,” I commented, watching her face. It paled as her throat worked, fighting to not vomit if I had to guess.

It took a long moment for her to answer me, swallowing down whatever saliva she had in her mouth a few times before she got the words out. “No, it absolutely did not,” she answered. I could see some of the tension in her body relax as I walked alongside her, whether because of who I am or because she knew she had someone to take her home if she passed out on her feet, I’m not sure. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d have to defend or carry her either way.

I watched her stride, making sure she wasn’t about to just suddenly topple over onto me, and I honestly debated just picking her up for the sole reason that it’d be faster. My thoughts were interrupted by her talking suddenly. “Could I borrow your hoodie?” I tensed slightly, the thought of it already slightly painful. “I know I’ll get blood on it, but it’ll come out, right?” She stared at me, those cogs in her head barely cranking away as she realized why I was clearly not comfortable with it, asking “Is this one of those things that hurts you?”

She should’ve known it without even asking, but I humored her with a quick “yes.” She was shaky already, and each step seemingly made it worse. I weighed what she must’ve felt against what I would feel, and as her teeth started to clack together, I let out a sigh. I yanked my sweatshirt off, handing it to her. Each movement was like a flame lit straight into my nerves, and I felt it throughout my entire body. I watched her pull it on, her body less tense as her ambient heat started to soak into its fabric. “We’ll just suffer together, I suppose,” I said unable to keep the strain from my voice.

She seemed to stumble less, and I only felt the need to walk alongside her rather than hover to catch her the second her body sagged. I felt off, the lack of the hoodie strange to me considering how closely tied to my identity it was. As Kate turned me from some person with a cup made out of a skull into Beau, the entity with a physical appearance and ability set, it became even more integral to who I was, somehow.

We approached her home and I could see the blood already soaked into it, even as she started to pull it off to hand it back to me. I shook my head, holding up my hand to stop her. I didn’t particularly want her to be standing outside, her blood and breasts bared to me and anything else that might walk by, and I told her, “I’ll be back for it tomorrow.” It was likely starting to keep her heat in, and there was no point in her bloodying another article of clothing unnecessarily.

She seemed confused, but she let go of the hem, letting it fall back down, and grabbed her phone. I listened to her speak as she called the old sheriff, her body still practically vibrating from pain. “Sit,” I insisted, following her into her home. She looked like a single stumble would have her knocked out on the ground, and I wasn’t willing to deal with that.

I settled her into a chair and poked through her kitchen, bringing over a bottle of what seemed like Gatorade. I was only vaguely aware that people used it to replenish themselves, having picked it up from the general consciousness, but I wasn't really positive about it. It wouldn’t perfectly replace everything she’d lost from the blood still spilling from her back, but it was a good start. I crossed my arms over my chest as I watched her take a slow sip, swishing it around her dry mouth before swallowing it.

“I’m not sure whether to say thank you or wonder why you’re doing this,” she said, her inflection angled up like it was a question. I flicked my eyes back to the bottle, then up to her face, waiting on her to take another sip.

She drank the bottle slowly, the movement of raising and lowering her arm seemingly tugging at the scratches on her back. When I looked out past her, having heard the familiar sound of a truck approaching, she tilted her head, but instead of letting her ask, I helped pull her to her feet. Her knuckles turned white as she clung to the bottle, the pain obvious, but the old sheriff would certainly be running up the steps any moment, and it’d be best to get her out as soon as possible.

When we went inside, she failed to lock the door and it was thrown open half a second after the old sheriff clomped his way up the steps. Kate’s name died on his lips as he saw me holding her forearm and opposite elbow, keeping her upright. “You okay, Kate?” he asked. I watched his gaze shift between us as he noticed my lack of a sweatshirt and her current gaining of one, and he just let out a chuckle. “Beau, we’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he told me, his anxiety for her melting into a smirk. “At least she’s conscious this time.”

I gave him the blankest stare I could manage, turning Kate slightly and letting the blood covering the back of my hoodie be more obvious to him. “She needs a hospital,” I told him, and he immediately flipped from jovial to anxious energy again.

He took her arms, helping to guide her to his truck. I followed behind them, shutting the door behind us. Kate was assuring him she’d be fine, but sitting with her back against the seat was clearly uncomfortable for her. Judging by the fact that she didn’t simply take the sweatshirt off to show him the slices, I can only assume she was opposed to him seeing her topless significantly more than she was uncomfortable with the same for me. I don't understand it, but the way the sheriff looked at me when she whispered "I'd show you them, but I don't have anything on under the hoodie" felt like he might.

**Author's Note:**

> I really expected this to become sexual but it just... didn't. I still like it either way, though.


End file.
